Yesterday’s America, as with the world, was wholly clouded in the darkness as to the causes of diseases and methods of their prevention. Prior to the discovery of viruses in the 1890s, the prevailing scientific theory of the day held that disease was spread by “miasmas” or foul odors. Consequently, any means of treatment founded upon such notions were of little avail.

In this light, the prevalence of a supernatural explanation for various conditions, even those not virus borne, was not so unthinkable given the alternative theory. For would not the infliction resulting from viruses, bacteria, dietary inadequacy, internal complications, etc. all seem a powerful manner of sorcery to the unfamiliar mind? How then might resounding fears impact ones judgement or ability to trust counsel?


In the late nineteenth century, Rochester, New York was not the same city as is seen today. While Rochester was a capital of industry, it was notorious for its many labor troubles. Still countless newly arrived immigrant families called this booming metropolis, on the shores of the Genesee River, home. Inadvertently, with such families came the folkways peculiar to each their cultures to include centuries old superstitions. But make no mistake, America, itself, was in no way immune to similar curious beliefs than those from the many nationalities received. And so, let this set the scene for the following, curious, but intriguing account. A rather curious belief in the superstition that characterised the middle ages has just come to light in this city. Belief in witchcraft has not yet, as some may think, become a thing of the far-distant past ; in fact, quite frequently physicians meet with it in their practice. Especially are the remnants of this superstition found among Germans of that type who were old enough on immigrating to preserve legends and traditions of the fatherland. But without entering into a discussion on cause and effect, let the story be told. In the Teirteeth [thirteenth] ward there lives a young couple whose married life had recently been blest [sic, blessed] by the advent of a child. The child is not a healthy one, and when the regular physician was summoned to attend it, he pronounced the disease to be marasmus [a type of malnutrition]. Not satisfied with the counsel of the physician, the family employed one of those who cure by sympathy, laying of hands, etc. This man said the child was bewitched, and the parents believed it. The only question then was, Who was guilty of the witchery? The man said he could tell. The first woman who entered the house, he said, after performing his incantations, was the witch. She must come, he said—she would be driven to it; she would have a burning desire to come. Shortly afterward a woman did come into the house, and her first inquiry was about the welfare of the child. Immediately the woman was pronounced the witch. It is said that the parents of the sick child then engaged the services of a woman who is well known in the sympathetic line, and she also pronounced the case one of witchery. Naturally the woman who had been pronounced a witch has been placed in a very unenviable light, the more so on account of the prevalence of the superstition in the neighborhood. The public will know who she is at once when informed that she is the same old woman who goes about the streets and stores selling apples and pears. She herself has not been interviewed in the matter, and her feelings therefore can not be described.—Rochester (N.Y.) Democrat.

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